"Can I touch you, Violette? I want to touch you, here."

"A warlock? A male witch? It's almost easier to accept a demon. Besides, what would a male witch, or any witches, for that matter, want with me?" She mistook the incredulous look he gave her for general annoyance with her questions. But what he said shocked her into silence.

"I can answer that, Violette," he said, seductively lowering his voice. "But I don't know if you're prepared for me to." His hand went to her neck then, the thumb resting on her racing pulse, his palm on her delicate collarbone.

This was not the young man she had a crush on. This was an experienced seducer, with clear intentions; he was making her feel as if she were being crushed by waves and was in danger of getting lost in the undertow. She was most definitely not ready. Her heart and brain screamed out in warning, but her edgy muscles were putting up a good argument. All this time, she'd spent trying to get his attention…now she had it and she was petrified.

“I’m… prepared.”

“Are you?” Suddenly, he leaned in close to her face, his lips three inches from her ear. She felt his breath caress the skin of her shoulder. He hovered there, as if he were silently asking for permission to proceed. His thumb and palm held still; the heat where her neck joined her shoulder was searing.

Violette looked away, down at the flickering candle, exposing her collarbone. No words would come to her. Her mind was racing. She couldn't settle on one thought. What should she say? Why was he having this effect on her? She always liked Slate, but this was more, much more.

Because he wasn’t speaking at all, it would be up to her to break the silence. When she was about to speak, his lips softly kissed her neck. Shivers careened up and down her spine and curled around her toes. The hand that had been on her neck was now slowly coming down in front of her, closer to her waist. Her breath caught in her throat. She still kept her head turned.

Slate pressed his lips firmly against her shoulder now; the pressure of his hand resting on her rib cage was sending a strange humming sensation all the way through her. Her gaze dropped to look at the hand that was assaulting her so sweetly.

“Slate…” Her voice was questioning, seeking answers, not understanding what was happening. Her instincts were telling her to arch her back in offering, her common sense screamed danger!

"Can I touch you, Violette? I want to touch you, here." His hand hesitated over her outer thigh.

Even if she wanted to say no, she could not find her voice.

“And here,” he placed his other hand on her sternum, pressing her down to the cot. She resisted. His touch was not rough, but curious, earnest. Despite his seductiveness, he seemed unfamiliar with what he was doing, almost fumbling, but gracefully.

“You feel soft…sweet.” He was mumbling silky endearments, inhaling her scent, nuzzling her ear. Her belly quivered; every nerve was on high alert, screaming for more stimulation. Without thinking, her eyes closed and a subtle moan escaped her.

“Mmm… lie down.” An ever so delicate command, but one that she obeyed. She was aware, yet totally witless. She knew his knees had hit the floor and that her hips were suspended, her shaking knees striving for the strength to support her lower half. She lifted her head to look down, and was terrified to see him sitting there. Her skirt was still a barrier. With his head leaning down to her belly, a look of pure hunger bathed the usual angles of his face, and made them fiercer, more virile.

She watched him bow his head and kiss her stomach through the thin white shirt. She wanted to stop him, should stop him, but her body was not her friend right now; it was an unrecognizable vessel of betrayal. Answering his affections, her hands went to his head, rubbing tentatively through his hair. He dared to look up at her, the eye contact a clash of electricity, a door to their worlds opened with the connection. His lips were pressed so firmly together now as if he were in physical pain. When he spoke, his voice was restrained; he was fighting something back.

 “Ah, this is sweet, you are lovely.”

She didn’t know what to say.

 “My dear Violette, it is time to stop now. You are wonderful; I am weak. I do not want to hurt you, I can’t do this, it would not be fair.”

His words made absolutely no sense and she didn’t hear half of them.  Violette understood he wanted to stop, and after that comprehension, the rest of what he said rolled across her like ice water. Her wanton position beneath him did not allow her to sit up. Hesitating, her hands left his head and went straight to either side of his face and tried to pull him toward her.   

His eyes grew suddenly wide and their lips met sweetly. What was she doing? What was happening to her? Was she dreaming again?

When he pulled away from her and his intense gaze roamed the length of her body beneath him, she decided this was real and she was insane. What he said next made her blood start to churn.

“I just want to feel the inside of you. I know it’s just as pretty as the outside.” He lifted up on his knees again now; his hands moving from her face to her waist. He held her gaze intently while he squeezed her rib cage, feeling how tiny she was.

“Slate?”

“Yes?” he asked, smiling lazily now.

“I’ve never…I mean, I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what you want. Do you…do you… love me?"

Violette’s simple, diffident question and the hope in her hooded eyes when she asked it, struck him deeply. He surely lusted after her. He wanted to possess her, literally, and he would kill for her, but did he love her? A desperate need to lie to her swept over him, but no matter how he tried, he could not falsify his feelings. When he took in her frailness, her innocence compared to his wickedness, he suddenly felt unworthy.

Onyx let go and pulled her up into a sitting position. He could not speak; he did not want to hurt her feelings, and he honestly did not know what to say, short of a callous “I don’t know.”

“Slate? What are you doing?” Her perplexed expression made him angry with himself. Why had he done this? Why? He felt like he was losing his mind and all his senses.

“I’m sorry.” He ground out the words between tight teeth, his face a mask of dark emotion.